“I don’t have a grumpy exterior!” I protested—right before I caught him biting back a smile and realized he was teasing. It didn’t feel like he was doing it to be mean, though, more like it was a shared joke. It occurred to me that maybe Finn had been laughingwithme and notatme this whole time.
Huh.
I pulled the curtains closed to hold in the heat, and when my stomach growled, echoing in the quiet, I remembered that I hadn’t eaten all day—and, I realized belatedly, Finn probably hadn’t either. I gestured toward the couch. “Sit down and I’ll make us some dinner.”
Finn sank onto the couch and tilted his head back, his eyes closing.
He’d gone quiet. Was he about to pass out again? I prodded his shoulder gently. “Finn? You didn’t faint again did you?”
His eyelids fluttered open and I found myself staring into warm brown eyes. He gave a wry smile. “You can stop asking me that. I barely fainted the first time. It’s been a long day, that’s all. And dinner sounds great.” He gave me another smile, more certain this time. Since I was confident it was safe to leave him, I went to see what I had in the refrigerator.
There was a block of sharp cheddar in there, along with a container of tomato soup that I’d made earlier in the week. I put the soup on to heat and set about making grilled cheese sandwiches. It wasn’t anything fancy but it was fast, and sincemy stomach felt like it was trying to turn inside out, speed was my priority.
Once everything was ready, I carried it over to my small dining table, and Finn joined me there. “Oh, that looks amazing,” he said. I glanced up to see if he was being sarcastic, but he was eyeing the sandwiches with the same hungry gaze I reserved for pictures of Ryan Reynolds, so I guessed he meant it.
Finn took a bite of soup and hummed, a tiny, pleased noise. I’d always been handy in the kitchen, but I didn’t get to cook for someone else very often. It was nice to see someone appreciating my efforts, and Finn’s obvious enjoyment of the food had warmth flooding me.
When he took a bite of his sandwich, the groan he let out was almost filthy. His tongue darted out and traced over his lower lip, chasing the glistening traces of butter that lingered there.
Did he even know how hot he was?
Finn glanced up and caught me watching him, and his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. “This is really good.”
“Thanks,” I said, dragging my gaze away from his mouth. “My ex never appreciated my cooking. He considered anything other than salt and ketchup too exotic for his tastes.” I let out a humorless laugh.
“Well, it sounds like he had zero taste,” Finn said before biting into his sandwich again.
“Because he dated me? Thanks very much.”
“No,” Finn said slowly, “because hestoppeddating you. Why wouldn’t he want to be with a cute guy who’s clever and a great cook?”
Now it was my turn to blush. And for once I didn’t say anything dumb and spoil the moment. I just took the compliment and ate my sandwich.
Once we were both done, I stood and gathered the empty plates. “Dessert? I have some maple crunch cookies.”
“I’ll always say yes to cookies,” Finn said with a smile.
I grabbed the container and set it between us on the table, and I won’t lie, I felt a flutter of nerves when Finn took his first bite. I mean I thought they were pretty good but he was a professional, you know? What if he went full Gordon Ramsay on me and demanded I justify my “crispy edge to chewy center” ratio?
But he didn’t. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and said, “If I eat all of these and get a stomachache, I’m blaming you for making something so fucking delicious.”
I let out a soft laugh and snatched two cookies for myself, stupidly pleased at gaining his approval. “I’m glad you like them, but you still have to share.”
Finn reached out and took another cookie, and his hand was halfway to his mouth when he let out a high-pitched yelp, the cookie flying in the air.
Fuck. Was he having a stroke?
A second later he ducked under the table, and when he reappeared he gave a shaky laugh. “Your cat almost gave me a heart attack rubbing up against my legs.”
It was my turn to duck under the table and look. Asshole was curling around Finn’s ankles, purring and giving me a look that clearly saidwhat?
I got up, walked over to the living room window, and pulled the curtain aside, looking skyward. At Finn’s confused expression, I said, “I was just checking.”
“Checking?”
“For flying pigs. Or signs of the apocalypse. Assholenevertalks to strangers.”
Finn’s smile turned into that teasing grin, the one I was coming to realize meant yes, hewaslaughing with me. “Maybe I’m special.”
